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Updated: May 15, 2025
Once more the words of the old conductor sounded in his ears, and prophetically took hold upon his soul: "Manolo does not appear to be your son." Without having read Darwin, Amadeo Zureda instinctively sought explanation and consolation in the laws of heredity, for the pain now consuming him. Never had he, even when a young fellow, been given to drink or cards.
During the monotonous passage of a few more days, Manolo Berlanga gradually realized that Rafaela had big, expressive eyes, small feet with high insteps and a most pleasant walk. He noted that her breasts were firm and full; and he even thought he could detect in her an extremely coquettish desire to appear attractive in his eyes.
Then the two men fell upon each other, first with their fists, presently with knives. At that moment the old man saw in the face of the man he had believed his son, the same expression of hate that twenty years ago had distorted the features of Manolo Berlanga.
As soon as he had come by this resolution, his uneasiness grew calm. A sedative feeling of peace took possession of his heart. The engineer passed that day quietly reading, waiting for night to come. Rafaela was sewing in the dining-room, with little Manolo asleep on her lap.
The engineer, because of his love for her and for the boy, received her with affection. He assured her he had got into a fight with Manolo over a card-game. Fourteen or fifteen months later he maintained the same story, in court. He claimed he and Manolo had been playing mus, and that by way of a joke on his friends he had thrown away one of the cards in his hand and slipped himself another.
Annihilated by the realization of this new disaster, no longer having any heart to defend himself, the wretched man let his arms fall. And just at this moment Manolo, beside himself with rage, plunged the fatal blade into his breast. Now with his vengeance complete, the parricide took to flight. Amadeo Zureda, dying, was carried to the hospital. There, that same night, Don Adolfo came to see him.
Señor Tomás came running, and he and the other players succeeded in separating them. A crowd, attracted by the noise of the fight, gathered like magic. The tumult of these curiosity-seekers helped Amadeo hide his words as he and Manolo left the tavern. He said in his companion's ear: "I'll be waiting for you in front of San Antonio de la Florida." "Suits me!"
Why did you do it?" Stolidly Zureda answered: "Oh, it was a quarrel over cards." "Yes, that's so; they told me about it." Amadeo breathed easy. The conductor knew nothing; and it seemed probable that many others should be as ignorant as he about what had driven him to kill Manolo. Don Adolfo asked: "Where have you been?" "At Ceuta." "A long time?" "Twenty years and some months." "The deuce!
The wife's black eyes filled with tears as she told him to keep himself well bundled up and to think often of her. Tears quite blinded her. "What a good lass she is!" murmured Zureda. And as he recalled the poisonous doubt of a moment before, the man's ingenuous nobility felt shame. The life of Manolo Berlanga turned out to be pretty disreputable.
In Señor Tomás' tavern he found Manolo Berlanga playing tute with several friends. The silversmith was drunk, and his arrogant, defiant voice dominated the others. Slowly, with a careless and taciturn air, the engineer approached the group. "Good evening, all," said he. At first, no one answered him, for everybody's attention was fixed on the wayward come-and-go of the cards.
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